


Sing Me Your Dreams

by StuckInTheEarly2000s



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:29:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8491582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StuckInTheEarly2000s/pseuds/StuckInTheEarly2000s
Summary: *Originally posted on my Tumblr because I got impatient while trying to get this account started*
Some people talk in their sleep. Adam sings. And Blake? Well, he gets a front row seat from time to time.





	1. The Dreamer

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm a total newbie to this site. Long-time lurker, first-time poster. Also, while I'm not exactly new to writing fanfiction--I used to write a bit in the Psych fandom--I haven't written anything in YEARS and truth be told...I'm super nervous. I definitely welcome and appreciate any constructive criticism :) 
> 
> This is a 5+1 fic, five times Adam sings one of Blake's songs in his sleep and one time when he's awake.
> 
> Um, I guess that's it? Also, I own nothing and this is NOT AT ALL an accurate representation of Adam Levine, Blake Shelton, or their professional and/or personal lives. I have no idea how to word a disclaimer for an RPF, you know, since they're human beings and not intellectual property and whatnot. I should probably take that as a sign to not do the thing...
> 
> I'm gonna do it anyway.

* * *

 

 The first time it happened, they were both drunk. Adam had invited him to some New Year’s Eve party and, never one to turn down free booze, Blake had graciously accepted. There were only a few faces he recognized that night, floating around the house like buoys in a sea of faces he couldn't put names to if he tried. It was awkward at first, that part he is sure of. He had never really been one to hide away on the sidelines—Blake Shelton, a _wallflower_? Not in this lifetime!—but there was something about the L.A atmosphere that night that was just so…different. It wasn't intimidating, per se. That feeling passed shortly after he had arrived in the City of Angels, when he realized that the people there were just as crazy as the folks back home, same brand just a different flavor. So why had he been so…nervous? Was nervous even the right word for it? Maybe not but Blake didn't know how else to explain how sweaty his palms were, forced to wipe the slick off on his jeans every five minutes, or how shaky his voice was, as if he was unsure if the words that came out of his mouth—when he found the nerve—even made sense when he strung them together. It wasn't like he was worried about making a good impression on Adam's friends, thereby making a good impression on the city boy himself. Right? It didn’t matter though because all of those thoughts—and _feelings_ —had been quickly stuffed into a box hidden away deep in his brain labeled ‘DO NOT OPEN' once Adam had finally locked eyes with him for the first time that night.

The smile that followed was damn near _blinding_.

After a quick apology to his guest, or maybe some half-assed excuse by the way the petite blonde aimed her scathing glare in Blake's direction, as if he'd shouted from across the room ‘Adam, I demand your attention now!’, Adam made his way over to him with long, swift strides. Adam always smiled like that, right?

“You having a good time, Big Country?” And had his voice always been so rich and smooth and _genuine_?

“Alright, Rockstar, I'll admit that you city boys know how to occupy every last square inch of a house.” Blake slurred and _shit_ he really needed to learn how to string the right words together because the shine in Adam's smile had dimmed by two shades. It was so slight that anybody else would have missed it.

“I'm having a hell of a time Adam, it's nice to finally be able to unwind and relax a bit.” It wasn't exactly _un_ true, the tight coil in his chest had finally sprung loose the second Adam looked at him. And good Lord, Blake had no plans on reading any further into why. He must have said something right though because the sun, moon, all the stars in the sky graced Adam's lips once again. Blake allowed himself to get lost in it, had let himself indulge in the sight because how often was he going to get this opportunity again? The way Adam kept his eyes on him, his attention focused solely on Blake and Blake alone, it was as if that 1000-watt smile was just for him and what were the odds of that ever happening again? Blake must have spent a moment or six too long basking in that glow because all too soon Adam playfully shoved his shoulder.

“God, I even mention alcohol and your eyes glaze over and you zone out!” Adam's smile morphed into a smirk and Blake was finally able to breathe semi-regularly again.

“What?” _Smooth, Shelton._

Adam laughed “I said your beer's looking a little low, do you want me to get you new one, dipshit?”

Blake just nodded and followed Adam to the kitchen, followed him everywhere after that really. Out onto the back deck, back inside to mingle with guests, back to the kitchen for some more beers, to the living room to change the fucking radio station. Adam hadn’t seemed to mind though, just kept grinning at Blake like he was the only one in the room. And pretty soon he was. It threw Blake off when he realized it because he could've sworn the house was packed with people, wall to wall, partying on around them. But that was how it always was with Adam it seemed, hours passed by like mere minutes if you weren’t careful and, well, Blake had never really been a careful kind of man. So they talked and they laughed and they talked some more, about everything and nothing altogether and Blake had never thought that was actually possible, to talk about ‘everything and nothing’, because how do you even do that? That was before Adam, of course. A lot of things were before Adam. Hazel was just a brownish color. After Adam, hazel became brown bleeding into green with barely there hints of yellow. Tattoos were just ink on skin. After Adam, they became intricate maps of fascinating new worlds designed to take hours to navigate. A melody was just a satisfying sequence of notes in a song. After Adam, a melody became a laugh, a touch…a _look_.

“’m fuckin' beat, man.” A melody became slurred words dancing on a lazy tongue.

They were seated on Adam's couch, a massive fucking thing made almost entirely of fluff—once you sat down you sunk so deep into the cushions you could swim in them—a deep and decadent red, luxuriously soft to the touch. Blake sat, slouched as low and deep as possible, molded in the corner, left arm draped over the back. Adam leaned heavily into his side, his head a comfortably warm weight on Blake's arm just below his shoulder.

“Well, get up so I can get outta your hair and you can take your ass to bed.”

Adam didn't get up though, didn’t even try. He just tilted his head to the side and set his eyes on Blake's. Another melody, loud and complicated rang in Blake's ears and he had to close his eyes for moment or two so he wouldn't lose himself in it but when he opened his eyes again he found a challenge in Adam's. He wasn't sure what the challenge was, too buzzed to let his mind try to decipher it, so he just watched Adam with a slightly pinched, confused face. Adam, as he kept his eyes—tired and half-lidded with a determined edge—on Blake's, lowered himself until he was laying half on the couch and half somewhere between Blake’s lap and stomach.

“Don’t wanna, this couch is now my bed and you're my new pillow.” And with that, Adam's eyes slipped closed, breath deep and even, leaving Blake with no room to argue. Not that Blake had the willpower to argue anyway. He just snuggled deeper into the couch and wrapped his arm loosely around Adam’s waist, dozing in and out to the sweet lullaby of light snores.

He doesn’t remember how many times he drifted but he remembers the last time because that was when it happened. Blake woke up to what sounded like muffled mumbling. He looked down upon Adam, his face turned and half smooshed into Blake’s stomach and, sure enough, his was mouth was moving, voice so soft it was barely audible. He thought about going back to sleep but he couldn't let himself pass on the opportunity of hearing Adam talk in his sleep. At first, it just sounded like random vowels and consonants grouped together in no real discernible fashion but as he listened closely he finally heard it…Adam was singing. The notes were a little under pitch, loose and sleep-muddled, but light and breathy and...

_Beautiful_.

“So I smile…when I…need to look happy.”

Blake's breath caught deep in his throat because, _oh_.

“Do all…the things they tell…me to.”

Something gripped tight in his chest, pulled so fucking _hard_ , but all he could do was smile through it. How could he not?

“But all I need…is to hear you.”

As Blake let Adam sing him back to slumber, one loud, deafening thought raced through his mind.

“Whisper my name.”

_He's singing my song_.


	2. Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VERY IMPORTANT: I don't know a whole lot about ADHD, only my own experiences with my nephew. I do know that those who struggle with it, struggle in different ways. They also cope in different ways. Also, I'm playing the timeline by ear here. That is to say, I have no real timeline here and I'm sorry if that leads to any confusion. Also, also, I'm so sorry that it took me so long to get this chapter posted. Hopefully, the next chapter won't take as long. And for my third and final 'also', THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING!!!! I hope this chapter lives up to any expectations :)

* * *

 

 

The second time shocked him way more than it had any right to.

To be fair, the amount of time that passed between the two moments had been quite a while. There was also no alcohol to play scapegoat. Blake couldn't tread the same path he took the first time, when he awoke snuggled tight against a foreign warmth that, while his body was not at all accustomed to, was not the least bit unwelcome. At some point in the night they maneuvered themselves into a more comfortable position than when they fell asleep, with Blake flat on the edge of the couch, one arm wrapped around Adam's shoulders and the other folded beneath his own head, the younger man nestled between the back cushions and Blake’s side, left arm draped loosely over Blake's torso. Blake had gently detached himself from Adam’s lax grip, his sleepy fingers drew a slow trail across Blake's abdomen and set the nerves there aflame with a delicious tingle he steadfastly ignored. The memory of Adam's breathy notes written off as an alcohol-induced dream.

Given that they were slowly trudging through Blinds, Blake could not blame it on any sort of intoxication.

The day had already been long and they were only barely halfway through auditions. Blake could tell from his bursts of crazy energy, his overwhelming need to move and do something, _anything_ , that Adam had been having a hellish day. The amount of trips he took to Blake's chair were nearly triple than usual, not that he minded, of course. He never claimed to know much about ADHD but he knew there were times when it really took its toll on Adam, he studied his actions and body language and learned to differentiate between Adam's good, mild, and borderline chaotic days. When production called for an hour break Blake knew the scales had surpassed mild and prepared himself for the potential tip towards chaotic. Blake had just moved to stand up, about to make his way to Adam's chair, when Adam rushed passed him and offered nothing more than an agitated “Come get me in 30.”

The country singer never did ask him where he would be. He already knew.

After about twenty-five minutes, Blake set out towards his own trailer and found the pop singer fast asleep on his couch. He allowed a content peace to flood his chest as he lowered himself into an adjacent armchair.

It happened from time to time, this, finding Adam tucked away in his trailer on some of his more off days. Fortunately for Adam—unfortunately for Blake if he was being selfish—those times were far and few between. Mostly he would stumble upon Adam meditating or doing yoga, trying various methods to satisfy the rampant energy, anything to slow his hundred mile an hour mind back down to a more manageable speed. If Blake were to take a guess it seemed the inked man had exhausted his entire arsenal. The level of trust Adam had to have in Blake in order to go to his trailer at his most vulnerable, for him to think of Blake's space a safe haven, it did indescribable things to his heart. They never talked about it and Blake knew they never would. It was a silent agreement that Adam could come to him, that the country star would always have his back even when he became too much for himself. _Especially_ when he became too much for himself.

Unwilling to disturb his much needed rest, Blake sunk deeper into the armchair and paced his breathing to match Adam's. The quiet was so serene, so pure, that even Blake let his eyes slipped closed for a minute or two.

Then it started.

At first, it was just humming. Blake tried to tell himself that it was all in his mind, like the first time, his own wishful thinking. But there wasn't a drop of alcohol in his system, he hadn't even dozed off. This time he _knew_.

He opened his eyes as his own lyrics slipped from his best friend's lips.

“If I could…would dare.”

Blake didn't know if he should be more ashamed of the guilt that made him think of Miranda and their vows-

“Feed your dreams ‘n starve your fears.”

Or the hope that made him wonder why his own songs served as a soundtrack to Adam's dreams.

As he gently shook Adam's arm, Blake settled on being ashamed that he found _no_ shame in the latter.


End file.
